


Units

by AceofHarts



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, fluff probably, hangovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceofHarts/pseuds/AceofHarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reiner and Bertl went ahead and had a party without her, even though Annie had said she’d be back in town this morning. All isn't quite lost, though, given that there's a terribly attractive woman now standing in the middle of Annie's living room, in need of directions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Units

            When Annie got home the garage door was locked. Normally she may have been content to just leave her rusty old car at the curb, but today the curb was quite suspiciously occupied by cars she’d never seen before. She could have just let hers sit out in the driveway, but the fact that her housemates had locked the garage irked her. They'd known she'd be getting in that morning. It wasn't like they had a car of their own to bother protecting. She went back and got her keys and hauled the door up only to find that she couldn’t park in there anyway. Right there, in the centre of the garage, was the over-sized and over-stuffed chair that had been left in the house when they’d moved in. She’d immediately claimed it as her own. The boys had never questioned it or expressed any real interest in or disdain for the thing. To them it was just a piece of furniture, and it saved them some space on the couch or having to buy a chair themselves. It had always been a natural part of their house. 

            And yet, here it sat. Annie looked at it for a moment or two, then stepped out of the garage. She let the door fall with an echoing clang.

            What she’d suspected upon seeing the cars and the displaced chair was confirmed when she went inside. There were coats hanging up by the door, and unless Reiner and Bertl’s tastes had suddenly diversified enormously, they didn’t belong to her housemates.

            Which meant they’d done it. Reiner and Bertl gone ahead and had a party, even though she’d said she’d be back in town this morning with a trunk full of alcohol. She’d thought it would be enough to bribe her housemates into waiting, but drunkenness was, apparently, incorruptible as well as being in a hurry.

            They could have at least had the decency to clean up afterwards, she noted as she stepped over the puddle of beer in the front hall. Some unexpected dampness was not the worst of it. As she was about to turn left into the kitchen, she paused and glanced over her shoulder, into the living room.

            She might have almost forgiven her housemates if they had at least been among the hung-over bodies draped over assorted bits of furniture, or perhaps curled up with repentance where her chair had once stood. But Reiner and Bertl were nowhere to be seen; they must have evacuated to the upper floor.

            _Which means they were sober enough to manage the stairs_ , she thought flatly. Annie would have proceeded to the kitchen to deposit the bottle-filled paper bags she’d grabbed from her car, but one of the half-dozen or so people in the living room was quite solidly on her feet. She was taller than Annie, and black-haired, and peering at the screen of her phone. Annie glanced between the phone and what it was facing, and said, “Are you trying to get a photo for blackmail?”

            From where Annie stood, the woman’s phone appeared to be angled towards two young men lying in a tangled heap on the couch. From here it was difficult to say which limbs belonged to which body.

            The black-haired woman shook her head but did not look away from her phone.

            “I’m trying to see if any of my texts give me the address to this place,” she said. “There’s a restaurant I have to get to, and I don’t know how from here.”

            “You work there?”

            “No.” At last she pocketed the device and looked at Annie. Her eyes were black and attentive—anything but the drifting, bloodshot gaze Annie would have expected from a party-goer at nine in the morning the next day. “My friend thinks that greasy food is the only known cure for a hangover.”

            “It _is_ …”, one of the people on the couch groaned. Annie couldn’t tell which. “It works. 'S the only thing that does.”

            “What’s this place called?”, Annie asked.

            “The Zhiganshina Grill.”

            “Just drive right out that way,” she jutted her thumb to the right. “At the end of the street go left, and at the third intersection after that, turn right. It’s just there on the corner.”

            “Thanks.”

            Annie stepped into the kitchen so she could set down the bags. By the time she returned, the young woman had pried one of her friends off of the other. She supported him under one arm while she hauled the other young man from the cushions.

            “Wouldn’t it be easier to leave them here and bring it back to them?”, Annie asked. Normally she would not have taken so much interest. _Normally_ she would have just let the guests all clear out in their own time, without her commentary. But then, normally the guests at Reiner and Bertl’s parties were not appallingly gorgeous women strong enough to support most of the weight of two young adult men as they shambled towards the door.

            All things considered, Annie thought it wouldn’t hurt to make a little conversation.

            “I want to get them home,” the other woman said.

            “Don’t you think they’ll puke in your car?”

            “I don’t mind that much. It’s better than making a mess on someone else's carpet.”

            Annie watched her struggle bravely on towards the door, and she couldn’t help herself. She cut out in front of her and opened the door for her guests.

            _Reiner and Bertholdt’s guests_ , she thought distractedly and half-caringly. She paid her fair share of the rent, after all.  

            “What’s your name, anyway?”, she asked as the woman and her cargo shuffled over the doorstep.

            “Mikasa. Yours?"

            "Annie."

            "Do you want me to bring you back anything?”

            “I wasn’t at the party. I’ve got no hangover to cure.” Mikasa shrugged.

            “I didn’t think so.” And the way she looked at Annie then, Annie was certain of what she was thinking: _I would have remembered you if you had been._

            Any chance all that Annie could let this go disintegrated immediately.

            “I’ll tag along,” she said. “There’s been construction lately. I might need to give different directions.”

            It turned out to be totally unnecessary, of course, but Annie wasn’t particularly bothered by it as she sat in the passenger seat of Mikasa’s car and watched the familiar storefronts of her neighbourhood flick past. The process of getting the two boys into the back of the car had disentangled them from one another long enough that Annie could get a look at them. One was blond, and at the moment seemingly incapable of opening his eyes. The other was taller and darker and issuing a steady, incomprehensible stream of grumbling. They’d been introduced as Armin and Eren, respectively, and had greeted her upon Mikasa’s prompting. Annie doubted whether they’d remember her name in five minutes’ time.

            “It’s left just here,” she said.

            “I remember,” Mikasa said. Her hands were firm on the wheel, and she took the turn smoothly, but Annie caught the quick glance Mikasa threw her way and knew for certain it hadn’t been a cursory check for oncoming traffic. Mikasa had her wits about her, and wanted Annie to know it. 

            “Were you designated driver, or do you just not have time for hangovers?”

            “Both. First one’s more relevant right now.” She pulled over suddenly in what was distinctly a no-parking zone. Eren tipped against the car door and flung it open in one smooth motion, as if this had all been rehearsed. He leaned so far out of the car that his hair nearly grazed the gutter, and remained like that for a few moments uneventfully.

            “False alarm,” he groaned. “’m alright.” Still without opening his eyes the rest of the way, Armin hooked Eren's collar and hauled him back inside. On his way, Eren grabbed the door and yanked it closed. It had hardly shut before the car was rolling onwards again.

            Annie struggled to keep her eyebrows from lifting.

            “So this isn’t your first party.”

            “They don’t normally hit it this hard,” Mikasa said. “Eren, seatbelt.”

            “No.” He’d draped himself across Armin, who was petting Eren’s hair but otherwise looking as if he were asleep. “We’ve gotta be almost there anyway.”

            They arrived in a tiny parking lot not twenty seconds later. Annie was glad for it. All of a sudden she really wanted to get some air. Once she’d freed herself of her seatbelt and put the warmth of the car behind her, she just shut her eyes and breathed for a few moments.

            It should not be getting to her that much. It was just a _chair_ , and it wasn’t as if she’d carefully selected it or had it passed down from her great-great-great-grandmother. At the end of the day it was really just so much upholstery and stuffing. But it was her chair, and they’d tossed it, and damn if that wasn’t just wriggling around in her mind. Seeing another trio that actually appeared to function made her—not quite jealous, but certainly more irritable about all this than she wished she was.

            When she opened her eyes, a much darker pair looked back into them. Mikasa had not, as Annie assumed, gone into the restaurant to get her friend his dubious greasy medicine. She was watching Annie over the roof of the car. 

            “Do you want to get anything? I can pay.”

            Mikasa spoke that second sentence just as Annie opened her mouth to lie about not having her wallet on her.  

            “Alright. I’ll come in,” she said tonelessly. Sometimes she was grateful that that was her default setting. 

            She might as well go at this point anyway. The place had outdoor speakers for the benefit of its tiny patio, and if she was going to have vintage swing music inflicted on her she might as well get some food out of it.

            The music turned out to be just the same indoors, but at least it made some sense in this context. The place was a diner, complete with checkered floor and aluminum counters. The walls were tiled with turquoise and black vitrolite. The whole place shined nearly to glowing.

            “Have you eaten here before?”, Mikasa asked. Annie shook her head. “The milkshakes are good.”

            Annie could see that. Half the people in the place were soppy-looking couples with two straws per glass. It was the most ridiculously saccharine thing, and she would not have expected it of a deadpan woman in a tight black coat who looked like she could snap the average human in half.

            “I’ll try one,” she said. It couldn't hurt. At worst she'd just toss the thing in the garbage at home, and at best, she'd have a nice sugar kick to help put her in a better mood for dealing with Reiner and Bertl. 

            “Do you care which type?”

            “Surprise me. Oh, and two burgers, one large fry. I can pay you back.”

            “Don’t worry about it.” It was Mikasa’s turn at the counter. Annie put both her hands in the large central pocket of her faded university sweater. Reiner had bought it for her in first year when he’d been on a huge school spirit kick. He’d probably meant it as a joke, or a way to razz her for her lack of zeal in defending their school. There was no way he’d expected it would become one of her most-worn pieces of clothing.

            The thing was warm. She couldn’t help it.   

            Once Mikasa had their order they headed back to the car. Mikasa pushed the bulging paper bag she’d swiped from the counter through to the back seat. Annie, who’d been left to carry to the drink tray, let Mikasa pass the boys’ drinks along and claim her own without comment.

            It wasn’t until they were on the road again that Annie put the straw between her teeth. She expected something too-sweet and cloying—one of those drinks that tasted more like sugar than whatever flavour it had been advertised as.

            The milkshake was chocolate. It was also one of the best things Annie had tasted in her life. She could feel Mikasa glancing her way again.

            “It’s not bad,” Annie said. She didn’t look at Mikasa while she said it, but one corner of her mouth did curl upward, involuntarily and nearly imperceptibly, as she bit down on the straw.

            “You should try the others sometime. They’re all good.” She glanced in the rearview mirror. “Eren, seriously. Put your seatbelt on. You can’t even eat like that.”

            He groaned as he sat up, but did as she said. He pulled out a hamburger from the bag and buried his face in it. A few seconds later he withdrew and held the paper bag out to his peer and said:

            “Armin…take the fries, they’ll help…”

            “I’ve never heard anything that backs up the whole…grease theory,” Armin said, but he did take the bag. “Oh, there’s more… Annie, are these yours?”

            Well, he’d remembered. Colour Annie flattered.

            “Yeah,” she said, and took the bag when he passed it up between her and Mikasa’s seat. She looked down at the fries, and had to admit that actually, they looked pretty fantastic. She was on her fourth or fifth (they were even better than they looked) when Mikasa spoke.

            “You’re not taking those back for Reiner and Bertholdt?”

            “No. They had a party without me; they get zero magical grease cures. I came with you because I drove all night to get here and I'm hungry.” And what the hell, why not. She might as well be open about it. “Also because you’re attractive, and I’m annoyed that I missed out on meeting you at the party.”

            Mikasa snorted faintly.

            “I’m glad you did. I would’ve missed out, too.”

            She navigated them back to Annie’s house without needing to be told the way, except for one turn she nearly missed. Annie decided to take that opportunity and run with it. Once she’d stepped out of the car, before she shut the door, she leaned back inside.

            “It’s four twenty-five, Trost Avenue,” she said. “Just so you don’t get lost on the way here, next time we have a party.”

            “You’re having another one soon?”

            “I just bought enough alcohol to tide over a small nation through the winter. We’re having another one. You and your friends are officially invited. Though you could choose a different driver, next time.”

            Mikasa smiled slightly. It was less sardonic than Annie had expected—it wasn’t sardonic at all. But as the food in her hands confirmed, the way things were going today, unexpected was not necessarily bad. 

            “I might,” Mikasa said. “Can I get your number? I’ll double-check the address with you before we come over.”

            “I guess it’d be a shame if you forgot it,” Annie said.

            “I’m not going to forget it.” Annie believed her. She gave her her number anyway.

            Fifteen minutes later Reiner and Bertl finally made it downstairs to check if anyone needed them to call a cab. They found the living room bare of guests, but featuring one extremely large chair, and one petite blonde woman curled up in it and drinking a milkshake.

            “Hey, you actually made it back,” Reiner said. “We figured you’d be late again.”

            “Apparently,” Annie said. Bertl rubbed at the back of his neck and frowned self-admonishingly.

            “Sorry,” he said. “You didn’t move the chair back by yourself, did you?”

            “I did.”

            “You could’ve woken us up…” Annie shrugged. The television was on, and she was watching it intently. “We moved it so nobody’d get sick on it, or spill anything on it.”

            That had occurred to her over the past few minutes. It wasn’t as if they’d stuck the thing out at the curb. It had been in a locked garage. That really was the safest place for it, given the state of the people who’d been leaving while she’d been hauling the chair up into the house. 

            “We’ll move it again soon,” she said at length. “We’re having another party.”

            “Fine with me,” Reiner said. “Just let us know when.”

            “Also there’re two burgers on the counter. I’m told grease cures hangovers.” Reiner looked about the same as ever, but Bertl looked like he could use something along those lines even if it was just a placebo. Once they’d retreated through to the kitchen, Annie checked her phone. She’d missed a message from an unknown number.

 

**Armin’s willing to drive. He said the grease method is bogus and doesn’t want to try it again.**

**Though I don’t generally drink that much in the first place. So I'll still be able to call us a taxi to get home if he changes his mind.**

**Me either**

**I just buy all the alcohol so I can be the queen of the drunk boozy castle**

**When works best anyway**

            She realized of course that it would make more sense to ask Mikasa out rather than host a whole party for the benefit of one woman’s company. But honestly, she sort of liked parties, even though nobody thought she did. She knew why they thought that; she wasn’t exactly festive at the best of times. Maybe it was just her sociology degree speaking, but it was interesting to her how people formed all these little units, even if she rarely strayed from her own with Reiner and Bertl.

            _It wouldn’t hurt to build a few more bridges_ , she thought. After all, the point of a party was to connect those little units together.

            There was even a convenient local diner, near to Annie's house but familiar to Mikasa. That might qualify as the perfect spot for an early morning, post-party recovery date. A proper one, not featuring take-out. Especially now that she knew what their food was like. This milkshake had done far better than even her best case scenario, really. She felt she could throw a few more dollars the proprietors' way in return for that. 

            Her phone’s screen lit up again.

**We all have next weekend off.**

            “We’re having a party next weekend,” Annie said. She didn’t have to raise her voice much.

            “Good!”, Reiner said. He’d just emerged from the kitchen with a mop and a bucket of water. “The sooner the better. And hell, it’ll be easier to clean up afterwards with all three of us here.”    

            “Probably.” She said it noncommittally, and as if it didn’t matter, but when she ducked her head back down to take another drink, she chewed on her straw and smiled a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> yep  
> I don't remember why I started this one...? It's probably ooc on several levels, but I wanted to try anyway, so here it is


End file.
